


Roomie?

by TheVagabondBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy





	Roomie?

Castiel jolted awake at his desk when someone knocked on the wooden table top. He shook his head to throw out the sleep, but stopped quickly when pain shot through his skull.

 

“Mister Novak, we are not paying you to sleep at your desk.” Naomi, his supervisor, said bitingly.

 

Castiel rubbed at his temples, wrenching his eyes shut to shield from the bright lights. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I must’ve slept badly last night. It won’t happen again, I swear.” He insisted.

 

The woman sighed at him, rolling her eyes. “Because it’s you, and because it’s the first time, I’ll let it slide.” She said. _“Just_ this once, Castiel.”

 

He nodded softly, careful not to jostle his head to much. “Thank you, Naomi.” He said.

 

“Just go home, Castiel. You look absolutely terrible.” She continued.

 

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, standing up to meet her eye to eye. “I still have work to do.”

 

Naomi hummed. “If that headache is as bad it looks, I think you could use some rest. If you feel up for it, you could work from home later.” She said but continued to insist. “Just get some sleep first and see how it turns out.”

 

“Thanks, Naomi.” Castiel said. “I’ll buy you coffee and a cronut tomorrow.”

 

The woman snorted, shaking her head at him before moving on with her rounds around the office. Castiel sat back down with a heavy breath. What was wrong with him? How could he have fallen asleep at his desk? That had _never_ happened before. He really must have slept badly last night, but he had felt fine this morning. The day had rolled on like normal and then just… _this_.

 

It didn’t matter. It happened, and there wasn’t really anything Castiel could do about it at this point. He packed up his things, throwing back a few painkillers that Anna offered him from the cubicle next to his, then grabbed his coat and headed home.

 

*

 

The bed was soft and warm under him.

 

The headache had subsided slightly on the way home. His head still throbbed, but it was better than the shooting pain it had been before.

 

Castiel exhaled softly. This was nice. It wasn’t often that he got a day off in the middle of the week.

 

_“Really? So what is it you do with all your time?”_

 

Castiel jolted at the strange voice, stumbling out of his bed and to his feet.

 

“Hello?!” He called out into the apartment.

 

_“Hi.”_

 

Castiel jumped, turning on his toes. No one was there.

 

“Who are you?!” He called. “This isn’t funny, okay?! J-Just come out now and I won’t call the police!”

 

_“Okay, man! Calm down! I would if I could, but I can’t! I swear.”_

 

Castiel grabbed his briefcase, holding like a weapon. He looked around the room. There was no one. He was alone.

 

“Where are you?!” He shouted. “Show yourself!”

 

_“Dude! I can’t! I physically cannot show myself to you because I am inside your head!”_

 

“Wha-…?” Castiel exhaled, unable to process this. “Y-You’re...I’m imagining you? Am I going crazy?”

 

_“I wouldn’t know. And no, you’re not imagining me. I’m as real as they come, man. I’m just…between corporeal forms at the moment. So I thought I’d shack up with you.”_

 

Oh, this was crazy. This made no sense, zero sense to be found anywhere around here. _Between corporeal forms?_ What did that even mean? Castiel had to be imagining things. He had to. There was _no way_ that this…voice, was real.

 

It was the stress, from work and Naomi pushing him to work over-time. It had just hit its peak and all he needed to do was take a few personal days and the voice would go away; easy as pie!

 

_“Oh! Why’re we thinkin’ about pie? Are we gonna go get pie?”_

 

Castiel groaned at the voice. He threw his briefcase aside, and ran his hands over his face.

 

“Just go away, okay?!” He shouted at the stupid voice. “I don’t want you here, so just go away!”

 

The voice groaned in his head, sounding like a stubborn child. _“C’mon, Cas! I just need a place to hole up for a couple weeks, okay? That’s it!”_ It, he, whatever, insisted.

 

Castiel slumped into a seat on the edge of his bed. He exhaled heavily, wiping the nervous sweat from his brow.

 

“Really?” He asked. “Just…a few weeks? And then you’ll go away? You won’t come back?”

 

_“Scouts honor! I just need the heat to die down back home. I kinda may have pissed off my brother, who decided to throw me out, but he’ll cool down in a week or two. It’s fine. I’ll just sit here in the back of your head. Won’t bother no one.”_

 

“That’s it?” Castiel asked. He couldn’t _believe_ he was even considering this, if the voice was even a real thing and not just his imagination. “Nothing else?”

 

_“You got my word, man. I ain’t gonna do a thing.”_

 

“I…”

 

What could Castiel say? It didn’t seem like the voice was keen on vacating the premises, so to speak, so what was there for him to do? He couldn’t exactly force the thing out, right?

 

“Okay.” Castiel said finally.

 

_“Yes! Oh, man, you’re not gonna regret this! Promise!”_

 

Castiel already was.

 

“So, uh. Who…who are you then?” He asked, instead of bothering to voice his concerns. “I mean, if you’re going to be…living in my head, I think I have a right to know who you are.”

 

The voice laughed heartily at that. Castiel had the sneaking suspicion that if the voice had a body, it would throw its head back with the laughter, perhaps slap a knee and grip its chest.

 

_“Sure thing. Call me Dean.”_

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
